The Rose That Grew From Concrete
by fitzybeag
Summary: Everyone thinks Santana Lopez has it all. What if it turns out she has nothing? Santana's journey from delinquent runaway to Glee star. Chapter 7 is up! Please R
1. Because It's Warm

Will loosened his collar, a habit he was becoming more and more accustomed to as the months wore on. It was as though his collar was tightening itself day by day, strangling him, blocking his voice. A personal noose.

Laying down his sheets, his took a long look at the Glee kids before him. They were a tough bunch – he had always known that – but lately they seemed to have lost the luster that once made them so special, especially since Santana quit a few weeks ago. They were becoming restless, bitchy, snappy, and plain uninterested. As he studied each face, he was met by pretty much the same expression – bored defeat.

"So, Rachel," Will prompted, hoping to kick up some sort of discussion, or anything to get the kids' passion pumping, "Any ideas for Regionals? I was thinking of a few Paris Hilton numbers." If that wouldn't get them shouting out, he didn't know what would.

However he was simply met with a few dismal shrugs and _'whatever'_s.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Will sunk down into his seat, letting the mindless chatter of the club take over.

Things had to change. And fast.

oOoOo

The rain hadn't let up all day, so Will was left with no choice but to sprint halfway across the car park to his new hatchback. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

Climbing inside, he somehow couldn't find the strength to put the key in the ignition. What was the point of it all anymore? None of the kids seemed to care about the club – and if he didn't get sorted fast, many more would follow Santana's example and just quit.

He raised his head up from where it was resting against the wheel.

It was about time he got home to Emma – she'd probably have the dinner table set and sterilized by now.

Will's windscreen had been struggling through the dense rainfall for around fifteen minutes or so when he noticed a familiar figure making her way along the roadside.

_Santana._

He was shocked to see her in only her skimpy Cheerios uniform and no jacket, arms clasped around herself.

"Santana!" he called, rolling down the window.

She looked up, but quickly averted her gaze. Something wasn't right.

Will pulled over and approached where she was standing around, shifting her weight from one foot to the next while the rain gushed down, drenching her to her skin.

"What the hell are you doing out here? You'll catch your death! Hop in and I'll give you a ride."

"Mr Shue, no offense, but I wouldn't be caught dead in that Ford Focus if you paid me with Finn's moob milk." She continued on her way, more attitude in her step now.

"Stop kidding around, Santana. Your parents will freak if you arrive home with pneumonia!" he reasoned.

She sighed, and leaned back against the wall, accepting defeat. "Fine."

"Alright, where you heading?"

"Back to school. I've got extra Cheerios practice with Sue."

Will climbed back into the car and signaled for her to do the same, and she reluctantly followed.

The radio was playing some insufferable rubbish, but it made the awkward silence slightly more tolerable. For a girl who could spit some loudmouthed remarks, Santana could be more than quiet when she felt like it.

They continued on their way, and as they passed onto the school grounds, a sudden though occurred to Will.

The brake screeched, and Santana was thrown forward slightly.

"Jesus Christ, Mr Shue!"

"I'm going to ask you one time only – why are you going to the school?" His voice was raised now, more urgent.

"I already frickin' told you – Cheerio practice!"

"There's never been Cheerio practice on a Friday evening, Santana."

"Well, there is today. Happy?" Santana grabbed hold of the door handle but Will reached forward and stopped her.

"Let's cut the crap here. I know you – you should be out with your friends or family on a Friday night, not hanging around Lima in the lashing rain!"

She turned her body sharply around to him, suddenly looking more threatening than ever before. "Mr Shue, you don't know the first thing about me!"

He sighed heavily, sinking down low in his seat as he thought to himself. "Why school, Santana?"

This time she didn't put up a front, or come up with some witty remark, or even another lie. She was too tired to keep on fighting.

Avoiding his heavy gaze, she stared at the falling raindrop on her window. When she eventually spoke, her voice was quiet, defeated. "Because...it's warm."

Will tried to cover up his sharp intake of breath, and shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "Do you have any place to stay tonight?" he asked, as causally as he could manage.

Santana remained silent, looking down at her hands.

Will didn't have the option to think twice in this case. He restarted the car, and made a sharp U-turn, heading home.


	2. Start Explaining

Emma ripped off her rubber gloves and hurried after the doorbell. Will was almost an hour late, and despite her slight annoyance, she was eager to see him.

What she didn't expect to find, however, was Sue's head Cheerio standing on the doormat, her clothes dripping wet and loose strands of hair plastered to her face. The girl looked ready to freeze to death.

While Emma stood back in shock, Will ushered Santana in, one hand on her shoulder as he guided her to the couch.

"…Will?" Emma stuttered, trying to find a sane explanation for all of this.

He took a deep breath, running an increasingly shaky hand through his hair. "Emma, as you know, this is Santana, from McKinley. She doesn't have a place to stay tonight, and I figured as we have a spare room, you know…"

It suddenly clicked in Emma's mind. _Santana Lopez?_ Out on the streets? Santana Lopez was supposed to be the pristine daughter of a wealthy doctor, not some scruffy homeless kid. It didn't make sense.

"Well then, welcome Santana!" she smiled, swallowing her questions, "I'll grab you a spare pair of pajamas and set you up in the spare room."

Santana shuffled awkwardly and nodded.

Emma led her out of the living space, passing Will with a harsh look that screamed, '_you better start explaining what's going on here.'_

Two feisty women in one house. Will swallowed hard.

_oOoOo_

Will flicked through the newspaper as he lay in bed next to Emma, scouring through the main stories but taking very little in.

She placed a delicate hand on his arm, with the softness only she was blessed with. "We need to talk about this, honey."

Will nodded, finding it hard to meet her eyes.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" she continued, "I mean, with Santana's behavior issues and –"

"– Look, Emma, sometimes you have an obligation to act, for no other reason other than it's the right thing to do. And I know inside me that this was the right thing."

Emma smiled a little and leaned forward to kiss Will on the head. "Of course it was the right thing. And besides, its one night – it's not like it's for forever, right?"

Will looked back down into his paper, slowly sinking into the mattress.

She sat up sharply. "It _is_ just one night, right?"

"Oh, sure. One night."

Emma wasn't so convinced.

_oOoOo_

"Packed up so soon?"

Santana rolled her eyes as she finished making the freshly slept in bed. "I've got places to be, Mr Shue."

It appeared her vulnerability from yesterday evening had vanished leaving the old, snarky Santana back in its place.

"Such as?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Anything."

Will sat down on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands together. To Santana, he looked just like one of those _'I-try-too-hard-to-be-cool'_ social workers that dealt with her as a kid. Just plain sappy.

He turned to her, trying to see beyond the front she had put up since last night's events. "You keep everything you need in that schoolbag, do you?" he signaled towards her worn out backpack, covered in scrawl and graffiti.

Santana was put off by the remark. "No. I got the rest of my stuff at home."

"Home?"

She turned away to the window, looking down on the perfect suburban street below. _Look at this place! How the hell could Mr Shue relate to a thing she was going through when he lived in peaceful paradise?_

"My mom lives in Lima Heights Adjacent. It's on the other side of town."

Will nodded, obviously happy that his constant rooting had got him some answers. "Alright then. How about we drive over and pick up some of your stuff?"

Santana laughed in his face. "Man – I wouldn't be seen dead driving your pussy-mobile through my neighborhood!"

"You like staying here, don't you?"

She shrugged, despite herself. "It's alright, I guess."

"Well, if this arrangement's going to continue, you've got to plan long term. A couple of changes of clothes do not make a wardrobe. Now let's go."

Santana was a little stunned. Mr Shue was turning out to be tougher than she gave him credit…


	3. Growing Roots

The shiny Ford Focus pulled up slowly outside the impoverished apartment block, catching the beady eyes' of all who passed by, in particular a gang of youths sitting on the steps outside.

Will swallowed, mentally preparing himself for the walk inside, but Santana shot him a cautious glare.

"Don't you dare step one foot out of this car, alright?" Her tone was serious – Santana wasn't joking around.

"Santana, I – "

" – I mean it, Mr Shue."

He nodded, feeling slightly rejected but at the same time relieved he wouldn't have to venture outside the safe comfort of his car.

Santana adjusted her ponytail, then climbed out of the car, cool and collected.

To Will's surprise, she was greeted warmly by the gang outside, and several stepped forward for to embrace her. A particularly tall and sketchy-looking young man grabbed her into a brotherly headlock, before ruffling her hair fondly. These were far from the kind of people Santana hung around with in McKinley. In fact, these were far from the people who even attended McKinley. These didn't strike Will as particularly academic kids.

The tall guy pointed over at Will for a moment, questioningly, which caused Santana to duck her head a little and mumble some sort of answer, which the others seemed to find hilarious.

After exchanging a few more words, she continued on her way inside the dark, dreary corridors of the apartment, leaving Will alone with the gang of youths whose interest in his car was growing as the clock ticked on. He sank down in his seat, silently praying that if he kept very still, they'd forget he was even there.

The tall guy, their apparent ringleader, finally stood up from where he was perched on the steps, and confidently sauntered on towards the car, looping it once to get an all angle view, then, smirking, sat back down.

Will had lost his cool at this stage, and could feel the sweat beginning to form along his brow.

Just in time, Santana returned from the darkness, dragging her feet. That was a habit Will had observed from many of the residents around here – dragging their feet after them as though they were sinking into quicksand. He had heard how money goes to people's head, and often they have to struggle hard to stay grounded in the real world. Well, if that was the case, the inhabitants of Lima Heights were so grounded their feet were growing roots.

She said her goodbyes to the guys at the steps, then unsteadily climbed back inside the car.

Will looked expectantly at her empty hands, which he thought would be carrying bags of her clothes and belonging.

Santana shrugged, unbothered. "She was out."

"I guess we'll have to come back again then."

She fastened her seatbelt and stared vacantly out the window, watching as they slowly exited the rundown homes of Lima Heights, and returned to the fresh, manicured lawns of the middle class suburbs. It didn't look like she was any mood to talk, not that Will would give her such satisfaction.

"So, who were those kids outside? Friends of yours?"

Santana nodded, a small smile growing on her lips. "Yeah, Alvaro's my cousin. He lived with us when we were younger, so we're pretty close. The rest of them are just other guys in the gang."

Will nearly crashed the car, looking at Santana with a dangerous look.

Her hands\ shot up in defense. "I mean his gang of friends! Relax!"

Will sighed. He wasn't so sure.

oOoOo

Santana sat at the spacious dinner table, eyes down, fiddling with the table cloth. Will and Emma sat across the table, examining her. Santana felt like a bug under a microscope.

"Santana," Will cleared his throat, "There's something we need to talk to you about."

"Yeah, I know – I'm planning on moving on tonight anyway."

Will shook his head profusely. "No, not at all! Infact, what we were thinking about was–"

He took Emma's small hand in his. "–We were thinking that maybe you'd like to stay with us for another little while. Until next weekend, anyway."

Santana didn't react. She didn't smile in gratitude or frown in broken pride. All she did was sit there with a vacant expression.

The kitchen clock ticked back and forth, and a heavy silence captured them all in its hold. No one wanted to be the first to speak.

Then, like a pin falling to the floor, one gentle tear made its way down Santana's dark cheek, before it was roughly brushed away.

"No," she murmured, so softly it was almost inaudible.

Emma's brow creased in concerned.

"I don't need no one looking after me."

With that, Santana pushed herself up from the table and, grabbing her schoolbag en route, slammed her way out the front door.


	4. Good Kid

The bell tolled, waking Will from his thoughts.

He looked up to find his Sophomore History class getting up from their seats and nosily filing out the classroom door. How long had he been zoned out?

"Don't forget your assignment for tomorrow!" he called after them.

The door slammed shut.

Will held his head in his hands, trying to sooth his pumping headache. He hadn't slept a wink last night, ever since Santana had run off. His shirt collar was constraining against his neck again, tightening the noose once more. He had to find her, to save both his and her necks.

Will crossed the school towards the student cafeteria, hoping to find either Brittany or one of Santana's other friends from Glee club. Just as he pushed open the double doors, however, a plastic lunch tray barged straight into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Jesus, I'm sorry Mr Shue! I didn't –"

Will, doubled over in pain, waved his attacker on, until he caught sight of that familiar blond hair.

"Sam, just the type of person I was looking for! You haven't seen Santana in school this morning, have you?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. We usually queue for lunch together, but she wasn't there today."

Will tilted his head slightly. "I didn't realize you two were good friends."

"We're both on the free lunch programme. Santana doesn't like going up to the till with her own friends because she's embarrassed about it, I think."

"She hasn't ever talked to you about her family, has she?" Will prodded, silent praying that Sam would hold some answers to the mystery of Santana Lopez.

"Not much, but more than most people."

"Let's go to the Choir Room. This is important."

oOoOo

Outside on the corridors, students could be heard bustling back and forth, jostling and shoving past one another.

Inside however, the silence hung thick and heavily.

"Well," started Sam, leaning back into his chair, "The first time I got talking to Santana in the cafeteria, I was ahead of her in the line. I was a little wary, because, you know, Santana has got a bit of a rep for teasing people. So, when I got to the lady at the till, I mumbled 'free lunch' really quietly and sort of shrank down. Santana clued into this though, and she cornered me…"

"_You don't get free lunch, do you?"  
Sam shook his head, almost violently. "No way."_

"_Oh. Whatever." She shoved past him, making her way towards the reserved Cheerio's table. _

_Something about her tone was off. It was almost disappointed._

_Sam stopped her in her tracks. "Why? Do you?"_

"_Do I look like the kind of person who gets free lunch?" she scoffed. _

"_I guess not."_

"_Exactly. Now get out of my way."_

"_Where's your change?"_

_Santana threw her eyes to heaven, becoming increasingly agitated. "What do you mean my change?"_

"_You know, your change from your lunch money."_

"_I don't know! I don't see yours!"_

_Sam blushed. "I asked you first."_

"_Actually, if you weren't so busy swatting the flies away from your ginormous mouth, maybe you'd recall that _I_ was the one to corner _you."

_They stood in silence for a few moments._

"_Fine," she eventually sighed, "I do."_

_Sam looked down at his own tray, a small smile creeping onto his face. Santana gave him a shove. "What do you think you're laughing at, Billy Bass?"_

_He shook his head softly. "I do too."_

"From then on," Sam continued, "We've always got our lunch together."

Will stretched out his legs, thoughtfully. "Has she ever mentioned her mom to you?"

Sam nodded. "A couple of times. That's where Santana gets her wild streak."

"What do you mean?"

"Her mom's an addict. Neglected her kids and smoked crack all through pregnancy – that's why Santana was tiny when she was growing up. The social services took her away when she was six or seven, and I think she's been in foster care since."

Will leaned back, his hands behind his head. He had a feeling Santana wouldn't be one to agree with foster care.

"You've been really helpful, Sam. You can go back to your lunch."

"No problem, Mr Shue. I know people have a lot to say about Santana, but she's a good kid. She just needs someone to guide her."

Will smiled. Maybe he could be that person.

oOoOo

It was 2:00am when the knocking sounded.

Rubbing sleep-filled eyes, Will shuffled out of the bedroom in his t-shirt and boxers. He opened the front door, only to find nothing but a dark street. Just as he turned to head back inside, he caught sight of the tiny glowing ember of a lit joint. _Santana_.

She was sitting up against the side of the house, an empty bottle of vodka by her side and her smoke held loosely between her fingers. She grinned wildly when she saw him.

"Mr Shue! Long time no see, buddy!"

"Santana get up right now."

She tilted her head back, looking up at the stars. "Nah, I'm alright. I think I'll sleep out here tonight."

Left with no other options, Mr Shue grabbed her by the arms and led her inside onto the couch.

"How long have you been out there, Santana?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're the history teacher."

"Funny." He lifted her legs up so that she was lying across the couch. Santana's face was bruised and swelling on one side, and her clothes looked like they had seen better days.

Mr Shue ran a clenched hand through his hair. "You thirsty?"

She just nodded, folding into herself.

Grabbing a spare blanket from the wardrobe and a glass of water from the kitchen, he returned to find her curled up in the fetal position, arms wrapped around her legs. She was trembling.

Will tucked her in gently, and propped her up until she was supported by the cushions.

"I don't want to be like her, Mr Shue," she whispered softly.

He placed a gentle hand on her head. "You're nothing like your mother, do you understand that? You're Santana Lopez."

She nodded, closing her eyes.

"Good night, Mr Shue."

"Good night, Santana."


	5. Blow It All Away

**Thanks so much for all the continued support for this story. Tell me what you think should happen next, because I'm interested in hearing other ideas.**

**Hope you enjoy xx**

* * *

Santana's eye's flickered open, only to be blinded by blistering sunlight. She felt around, only to find herself in strange surroundings. Burnt toast wafted in from an open door somewhere, and it was then that last night's events came rolling back to her. Will had taken her in, despite her sorry state.

Summoning up the strength, Santana slowly rose from the couch and followed the enticing scent of food into the kitchen.

Will was waiting at the table, a mug of coffee in his hand and looking surprisingly alert.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, signaling for her to take a seat.

She shrugged. "Fine."

"Your swelling has gone down."

"Suppose so." She glanced around the kitchen for any sign of Emma. "What time is it?"

"It's just turned 1:30."

Santana was shocked. "Seriously? Why aren't you in school?"

"Neither one of us will be leaving this house today until I get some answers."

She sighed and picked up an orange from the fruit bowl. "Pop quiz?"

"Sort of." He adapted his social worker posture, sitting on his chair A.C. Slater style.

"Want to explain what happened last night?" Will began.

"Why do you care?"

"Right now, I'm your guardian. And even if I wasn't, I'd still care about your wellbeing."

Santana scoffed. "Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You never gave a damn about me before. No one in that crappy school did."

That hit Will hard, but he couldn't deny her words. Santana was always written off as simply a troublemaker. No one, not for one minute, paid her enough attention to dig deeper and discover the root of her problems.

"Maybe you're right, Santana. I believe your disruptiveness in class was just to cover up the pain you were feeling underneath."

She shrugged, setting to work peeling the orange in her hands.

"And last night too?" Will questioned, his steady eye contact burning into her. "Is drinking, fighting and getting high just another way to cover up the hurt?"

That set her off. Santana jumped up from the table, her chair skidding backwards, scraping against the tiles. "Don't you even try to patronize me! That crap has nothing to do with you, you hear me? You don't know what pain is!"

"Then show me!"

She stopped in her tracks. "Show you?"

"Billie Holiday, Tina Turner, Etta James, John Lennon, Marilyn Monroe, Ray Charles – all of these people had hard lives, and some, like you, didn't grow up with proper parents. But what did they do? They channeled their hurt and turned it into something productive, something beautiful. You've got so much soul, Santana – you can't blow it all away on alcohol and weed."

Santana sunk back into her chair, her expression unreadable.

"Santana?"

It took her a while before she spoke again. "You really think singing's gonna help?"

Will took her hand. "I'm sure of it."

She sighed deeply, her head bowed. "Then I guess it's Glee club tomorrow."

* * *

Santana was seated at the back of the choir room, arms folded in anticipation. The others would be arrived any minute, and she knew already that things wouldn't go ahead without a little bit of disturbance. She was right.

Quinn stood in the doorway, staring the Latina up and down.

"You looking at something?" Santana offered, her head tilted challengingly.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

The others arrived in after her, and everyone took their seats.

"Alright, guys," announced Will, taking to the front of the class, "As I'm sure you've noticed, today we have welcomed Santana back to Glee club."

The announcement was met with short, half-hearted applause.

Will continued on with the lesson, discussing the musical impact of the 80's, but before Santana could even begin to knuckle down, Quinn swung around to her. "So, I'm guessing Figgins sent you here to keep you out of trouble, huh?"

Santana shrugged. She wasn't in the mood for the blonde's continuous hassling.

"To be honest," Quinn went on, "I think a sports team would be more appropriate for someone like you."

That hit a nerve. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah. To finish a race, all they'd have to do is turn on a police siren and you and your relatives would leave the others in the dust."

"Watch it."

"Make me." Quinn turned to Brittany, which made Santana tense up. She was not about to bring Brittany into this. "Hey, Brittany," Quinn continued, "You know why Santana's mom painted their trashcan red and yellow?"

Brittany shook her head, intrigued.

"So her kids think they're eating at McDonalds."

That was it.

Santana was on top of the other girl before she knew what had happened, a chunk of blonde hair in her hand. They struggled on the ground, tearing at one another, while the rest of the club looked on in horror.

Will stepped forward; grabbing Santana from behind while Puck struggled to constrain Quinn's thrashing limbs.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Will roared, snapping both girls back into reality. "Everybody head home – we'll continue practice tomorrow. Clear?"

A little stunned, the kids cautiously made their way out of the choir room.

Even Will didn't know what to think. He'd been looking for a spark of energy in Glee, and maybe he had found it…


	6. Some Doctor in Columbus

"…If you ask me, it's all just a sad plea for attention," Quinn sighed, twiddling a pen between her fingers in the back of Mr Shuester's history class, where she and some fellow Cheerios were gathered.

"I know!" cried another, rolling her eyes. "Her badass attitude is _so _outdated. I mean, talk about daddy issues."

Will tried to ignore the girls' chatter, while the rest of the class got on with their work.

Quinn clapped her hands in delight, reveling in the gossip session. "Completely! What does her dad do anyway, sell tacos?"

That caught Will's attention. Surely they couldn't be gossiping about Santana?

Brittney, caught up in the pack of cheerleaders, furrowed her brow. "Isn't her dad a doctor? Like, a proper people doctor, not the creepy vet man who stole Lord Tubbington's balls."

"Yeah, apparently. To be honest though, Brit, I wouldn't believe a word that comes out of Santana Lopez's mouth," Quinn added, leaning back in her chair with a look of pure satisfaction on her lips.

Will had to get to the bottom of this.

oOoOo

The evening was unusually mild, and Santana found herself settled on Will's porch, like something out of 'To Kill a Mockingbird.'

The Ford Focus pulled up against the curb, and Will bustled out, a stack of papers under one arm and an empty coffee cup in the other. He looked glad to see her.

"You and I have a bone to pick, girl."

Santana rolled her eyes. "What did I do now?"

He stared at her hard. "Lying about your dad's job?"

She scoffed. "Who says I'm lying?"

"Cut the crap, Santana. I heard the girls saying that you told them your dad was a doctor."

"Mr Shue." Her voice was oddly calm. Almost reflective. "I wasn't lying."

Will placed down his load and sat down on the porch beside her. "Are you serious about this?"

Santana nodded, taking a deep breath. "My biological father was some doctor in Columbus."

"Your mom, was she going out with this guy?"

She took a quick look around warily. Will offered her a hand in support. "Well, my mom, she was stuck for cash a lot, trying to pay for the crack. So she, you know, worked the 'nighttime shift' time to time."

Will stared at her vacantly, not understanding.

"She was a hooker, Mr Shue. Every night she'd come home late and collapse all drugged up in the kitchen. I'd get up out of bed and turn her on her side, in case she got sick, and leave a glass of water by her side and a blanket around her shoulders. I looked after her and Alvaro looked after me. That's the way it worked."

"Santana, you were a child. You shouldn't have had to look after your mother."

"Well nobody else was doing it, were they?" She turned her face away from him, her cheeks burning.

"Are you ashamed of her?" Will asked slowly.

"She's my mother!"

"I know. That's not the question I asked."  
Santana stood up, leaning against the wall of the house, arms folded. It took a few minutes until she could meet his gaze.

"I'm ashamed of myself. I'm ashamed of not being there for the woman who gave everything for my wellbeing and safety. I'm ashamed of never being good enough to make her proud," she looked up at sky. "All she sees when she looks at me is him – just another man who used her."

Mr Shue shocked even himself as he felt a lonely tear travel down his face.

"We're going to make her proud of you, Santana."

oOoOo

Glee club was in full swing, a little energy slowly returning. The kids even joined in on discussions willingly, and the whiteboard was chock full of song ideas for Regionals.

Santana sat in the back row, however, eyes fixed ahead.

"So Santana," Will began, "Any favourite songs you think we should consider."

She paused for a moment in thought, but her mind went blank.

"La Cucaracha?" suggested Quinn.

This was met with hysterical laughter.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Quinn," Santana smiled sickly, "Where you saying something? I don't speak white thrash."

Before the girls could make it to their feet, Will threw down his music score with a thud.

"THAT'S IT! I'm sick of your ridiculous behavior, the two of you!"

Quinn jumped to her feet in protest. "How are we supposed to focus on Regionals when wasters like her waltz in and out of here as they please? She needs to get control over her own life before she drags the rest of us down with her!"

Santana kicked back her own chair with a screech. "Quinn Fabray, you don't know the first thing about my life!"

Silence fell over the room.

"Then tell us, Santana," said Will gently.

She shook her head and looked away, before returning to her seat.

Will had to do something. This was his moment.

"Finn Hudson – dead father," said Will, "Rachel Berry – adopted. Quinn Fabray – absent father."

Everyone exchanged frantic looks of protest, but Will carried on.

"Mike Chang – unsupportive father. Tina Cohen-Chang – chronic social anxiety. Kurt Hummel – dead mother. Noah Puckerman – absent father.

He finally turned to Santana and swallows hard.

"Santana Lopez – ran away from foster care."

The choir room was held in a perfect lull, shocked but stony faces staring at the floor before them.

"Damn, Santana," said Quinn at last, "Why didn't you ever say something?"

Santana almost laughs. "There's nothing to say."

Finn looks up to her through glossy eyes. "Then sing something."

"That sounds like a good idea, Santana," agreed Will.

Santana looks away for a moment, then shakily gets to her feet. "Alright. This is 'Ain't Nobody Worrying' by Anthony Hamilton."

It seems like a millennium before she eventually makes her way to the front of the class. Taking a deep breath, she begins to sing,

_Ain't nobody worryin',  
When the shots fly high and the siren starts to ring.  
Ain't nobody worryin',  
When the kids die young and the mothers are suffering.  
Ain't nobody prayin',  
When they kneel down low, all they doin' is tyin' their shoe string.  
Ain't nobody worryin' no more, no more, no more, no more._

The homeless have no where to turn,  
When their stomach starts to burn  
'Cause they ain't got food to eat.  
How the children gonna learn,  
When they gotta take turns  
'Cause they ain't got books to read.  
Then our babies turn to crime,  
Started gettin' high  
'Cause the job train's kinda slow.

'Cause ain't nobody worryin' no more, no more, no more, no more, no more.  
When the tears start to fall and you can't see your way,  
Just carry on, c'mon, judgment day.  
You don't have to mourn, help's on the way.  
'Cause ain't nobody worryin' no more, no more.

These are our precious times,  
Disease taking lives,  
Medicaid ran out.  
Show me a weapon line,  
There's a mother on the phone,  
Tryin' to beat the drought.  
Tell me when will this end?  
All the suffering,  
My faith is runnin' low.  
Ain't nobody worryin' no more, no more, no more, no more, no more.  
Ain't nobody worryin' no more, no more, no more, no more, no more.

When the tears start to fall and you can't see your way,  
And just carry on, c'mon, judgment day.  
Don't have to mourn no more, help's on the way.  
'Cause ain't nobody worryin'.

Ain't nobody worryin',  
When the shots fly high and the siren starts to ring.  
I said, ain't nobody worryin',  
When the kids die young and the mothers are suffering.  
Ain't nobody worryin'  
The Latino's doing time and no one cares for him.  
The government on the grind and tryin' to fence him in.  
(Our babies are gettin' high.)  
With drugs in the schools, we need to pray again.  
When will it end? Will it end? Will it end? Will it end?

'Cause ain't nobody worryin'.  
Ain't nobody worryin'.  
Ain't nobody prayin'.  
Ain't nobody worryin' no more, no more, no more, no more, no more.  


Santana ended abruptly, her hands to her face, blocking in all emotion. Out of nowhere, Quinn rose to her feet, and took Santana's trembling form in her arms. Will almost had to do a double take. Following Quinn's lead, Brittany joined in on the embrace, and before long, the whole Glee Club, every troubled soul amongst them, had their arms around one another.

Will was pretty sure he'd found his magic.


	7. My People

_2 Months Later_

Breadstix was always buzzing with families on Friday nights. The funny thing was though, Santana never expected to be a part of one of those families.

She and Emma sat across the table from Will, laughing at the stories he recalled from his days at McKinley.

After their main course, Emma took Santana's hand in hers. "So, it's been two whole months since you first moved in. How does it feel?"

Santana laughed at her Emma's guidance councillor tone. "Well, I'm gonna having to go all Lima Heights if you repeat this to anyone, but I think it feels nice. I used to draw this perfect family in my diary when I was like eight, but I just never thought it would happen, you know?"

"You're a good kid Santana Lopez. I always knew it," smiled Will.

Santana had to laugh. "Ah, cut the shit, Mr Shue – I was a brat!"

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Though, brat might be too light a word…"

Emma swatted at her fiancé's arm. "Shut your mouth, Will Shuester!"

"I think you said 'perfect family' too soon, Santana," said Will, laughing into his drink.

Santana looked to the floor with a small smile. _Perfect_. She never thought she could say those words and really mean it. School, the glee club, Will and Emma – everything was just too good to be true.

She and Quinn and reignited their friendship, and the Holy Trinity was together once more. Santana's snarky comments had reduced too, though she still never missed an opportunity to discuss Finn's man boobs. All in all, they were on the road to Regionals with a great song list, including a solo for Santana. Life just didn't seem real.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I head out now? Finn and Kurt are having a party," said Santana.

Will sighed and looked at his watch. "Alright, but be home by 12:30, alright?"

"_No hay problema, Senor Shue!"_ she grinned as she grabbed her bag and waved goodbye.

"Keep safe, Santana, alright?" Emma called after her.

Will shook his head at his fiancé with a smile. "You're such a moany mother."

oOoOo

Puck and Brittany met Santana outside, and together they walked through the darkening streets of Lima.

"So Puck," said Santana, elbowing her friend playfully, "You gonna get lucky with some desperate freshman tonight?"

He scratched his mohawk thoughtfully. "Hmm. I'll see where the night takes me. Though I have noticed the clear drop in quality among freshmen these days."

"The tragic life of a high school player," sighed Santana.

Brittany giggled and looped her arm through Santana's.

The three friends took a shortcut down a deserted alleyway, Puck taking the protective lead.

Brittany stuck close to Santana's side, unsure of her surroundings. Santana gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, when out of nowhere Puck was tackled to the side. Santana and Brittany felt rough hands grab them from behind and pin them up against the wall. Out of the corner of their eyes they could make out Puck held on the ground, the dark silhouette of a handgun pointed to his head.

"Empty your pockets! _Ahora_!" barked the coarse voice looming over Puck. The two men restraining Santana and Brittany grabbed for the girls' bags. They took Brittany's with ease, but Santana resisted.

"Hand it over, _puta_!" the guy roared.

"_¡Vete a la mierda!" _snarled Santana, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

The dark figure grabbed her by her face and spun her around to meet his eyes. Suddenly, his hand dropped, and he stood in silence.

"Santana?" he questioned, a wide grin growing on his once serious face.

"Fernando?" Santana exclaimed, laughing in surprise.

Brittany and Puck exchanged terrified looks.

"Long time no see, _chica_!" said another of the muggers pulling Santana into a warm embrace. "Haven't seen you around the _barrio_ since I got out of reform school!"

"How's Alvaro keeping?" asked Santana. "And my mom?"

The mugger holding Puck to the ground tucking in his gun and laughed. "Ah, you know Alvaro – still up to the same hustle."

"I saw your _madre_ the other day actually," said Fernando, "She's looking better. I heard she was asking around for you."

"You serious? Shit, I've been so caught up in stuff lately, I…" Santana shook her head.

She turned to Brittany and Puck, who was slowly picking himself up off the ground. "Hey, would you guys tell everyone I can't make it to the party? I gotta head home for a bit," said Santana.

"Home?" questioned Puck, warily.

Santana shrugged. "I gotta go see my people."  
Fernando placed a strong hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, Santana. We'll give you lift."  
With that, Santana disappeared in the midst of the three large figures, into the darkness of her familiar streets.


	8. Don't Leave Me Again

Will played with an orange, sitting at the kitchen table, struggling to keep his wandering mind on the fruit before him. Emma's quiet sobs drifted in from the bedroom, but Will could barely comfort himself, let alone his emotional fiancé. Santana had been missing for days. According to Brittany and Puck, they last saw her wandering into the distance with three thugs. Back to her mother, no doubt.

Will sighed, holding his head in his hands. He'd visited her old _barrio _a couple of times, but no one would tell him a thing about her whereabouts. He missed her. It seemed he and Emma needed her just as much as she needed them.

* * *

Santana placed a tall glass of water beside her mother Maribel's sleepy form, huddled under blankets on the couch. Stirring, Maribel sat up a little, looking up at Santana through tired, squinting eyes. "Santana?"

"Yeah, mamá?"

"I had a dream where they took you away. They took my baby." She placed a hand on Santana's soft face. "Don't leave me again."

"I won't, mamá."

"That's _mija_. There's bread by the sink, you go make breakfast."

Santana crossed over into the small kitchen space in the corner, threw some bread in the toaster and hunted around for a carton of milk. Before she could begin to ask her mother about the milk's whereabouts, however, Maribel had lit up her crack pipe.

"Mamá!" groaned Santana.

"Go make breakfast, 'Tana. Leave me be."

Suddenly, Santana didn't feel so hungry. "I'm going out. I'll be back to make you lunch."

Maribel ignored her.

* * *

"Well, if Santana's isn't turning up then we have no other choice – I'll have to take over her solos!"

Everyone ignored Rachel, and remained in the stony silence that had overcome them during the last couple of days. Santana wasn't replying to their calls or Facebook messages – it was unnatural.

Will sat at the front of the class, too tired to even attempt to lead today's lesson. He let Rachel do her thing, because none of it really mattered much to him anymore.

He sent them home early, and warily made his way to the staff room to grab a much needed coffee before he faced the drive home. As he returned to pick up his book bag from the Choir Room, however, he was met was an unexpected sight.

Brittany sat leaning against the wall, indifferent to Puck's attempts to comfort her. Will remained motionless outside the door, unobserved.

At last, Puck picked up a guitar from the back of the room, and slowly began to strum away. He sang surprisingly softly, obviously soothing both Brittany and himself.

_All I want is nothing more _

_To hear you knocking at my door.  
'Cause if I could see your face once more  
I could die a happy man, I'm sure. _

Brittany smiled up at him through tears and sang the next phrase.

_When you said your last good-bye  
I died a little bit inside  
I lay in tears in bed all night  
alone without you by my side_

Together, they sang a harmony that brought Will to tears right where he stood.

_But if you loved me  
why'd you leave me?_

Take my body  
Take my body  
All I want is  
And all I need is  
To find somebody  
I'll find somebody…like you oohh oohh

See, you brought out the best of me  
A part of me I've never seen  
You took my soul & wiped it clean  
Our love was made for movie screens

But if you loved me  
Why'd you leave me?  
Take my body  
Take my body  
All I want is  
And all I need is  
To find somebody  
I'll find somebody..

oooohhhh.. oooohhhhh.. oooohhhh.. oohh..  
oooohhhh.. oooohhhhh.. oooohhhh.. oohh..

If you loved me  
Why'd you leave me?  
Take my body  
Take my body  
All I want is  
And all I need is

_To find somebody  
To find somebody…like you…  
oohh_


End file.
